


The White Ducati

by athenejen



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: College, Friendship, Gen, Male Friendship, Motorcycles, Stanford Era, Stanford University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-22
Updated: 2011-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-23 22:47:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/255925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athenejen/pseuds/athenejen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bryce showed up on the white Ducati at the beginning of their sophomore year, the only thing Chuck could think was that of <i>course</i> Bryce knew how to ride a motorcycle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The White Ducati

**Author's Note:**

> Oxoniensis, thank you so, so much for the beta (and for the title suggestion!). You are wonderful. :) Written for [picfor1000](http://picfor1000.livejournal.com/) based on [this adorable prompt](http://bighugelabs.com/onblack.php?id=2931442307). Originally posted at livejournal [here](http://athenejen.livejournal.com/77112.html).

When Bryce showed up on the white Ducati at the beginning of their sophomore year, the only thing Chuck could think was that of _course_ Bryce knew how to ride a motorcycle. Of _course_ he would look totally natural and at home and badass on one. And of course his hair still looked all dashing and shiny and neatly in place even after he yanked the helmet off.

"Wow," Chuck blurted. "Did you ride that thing all the way across the country? Because I'd think that would be a little uncomfortable..." Bryce had spent the summer in New York, interning at some finance company. Most of his emails had been about Deus Ex and EverQuest, in between bouts of the extended conversation they'd had about Zork over IM.

Bryce grinned at him and patted the bike fondly, right between the handlebars. "Nah, she's perfect. Aren't you, girl?" He patted the bike again. "You wanna ride? Gather evidence for yourself? There's a second helmet."

"No, no, thanks, but no." Chuck took a step back and waved his hands in front of himself. "I prefer my highway-approved vehicles to be _enclosed_ , thank you very much."

"Suit yourself," Bryce laughed, and killed the motor before climbing off the bike. A girl skateboarding past almost ran into a tree as she turned to look, but managed to swerve at the last minute and skid harmlessly into some aloe plants instead. Bryce winked at her, tossed the helmet up into the air, caught it with one hand, and walked toward Gamma Delta Phi's front door. Chuck stared at the bike for another minute before following him in.

Thing was, Chuck was the only one who _ever_ said no to that offer, as far as he could tell. Even Jill asked him if he thought Bryce would let her have a go, and Jill and Bryce had never really gotten along as well as Chuck had hoped they would. They liked all the same things, and they _coexisted_ just fine, but the smiles they both plastered on whenever the other was around never felt quite real to Chuck.

Bryce did let her ride with him once, though, and when they got back to the frat a half-hour later, they were both laughing, and they actually sounded _happy_ , instead of like they were trying to see who could laugh the longest or loudest or whatever. Chuck felt a stab of something through his ribs. He tried to convince himself it was just pure relief because they were finally getting along better. Yeah. Relief.

The first week or two, it seemed like Bryce was _constantly_ giving people rides. Lucky it was still so early in term, because Bryce wasn't left with much time for oh, you know, studying. Not that Bryce ever really _needed_ to study, not compared to most people. He was definitely more like an eagle soaring than like a duck paddling -- calm all the way through, not just on the surface.

The demand tapered off after the initial rush until it was only a few times a week that Chuck spotted Bryce with yet another person on the back of his bike, tooling around campus like he owned the place. Still, Chuck was pretty sure that by Thanksgiving, just about every single person Bryce knew had gotten a ride from him at one point or another.

All of their frat brothers took a turn, even Dennis Wong, whose irrational fear of being a passenger in someone else's car was _legendary_. The guy insisted -- insisted! -- on driving everywhere himself. But there he was, on the back of Bryce's bike. He waved to Chuck as they swung past where he was sitting at the picnic tables behind Tresidder, reading his Compilers textbook.

Chuck waved back and attempted to smile. They were probably going too fast to notice how it didn't reach his eyes, anyway.

 _Fuck it,_ he thought, and the next time Bryce tried to convince him that going to the comic book store on his bike would be way more fun than taking Chuck's car, Chuck said okay.

"I feel very tall," commented Chuck as he gingerly climbed onto the bike behind Bryce. He was a little afraid that he was going to bang his chin on the back of Bryce's vaguely futuristic-looking black helmet.

"You know, there might be a reason for that." Bryce handed him the second helmet, which was all white and round and sort of boring-looking in comparison. It felt almost too snug when he put it on, but after several seconds, the feeling of someone squishing his head subsided.

The bike's engine purred to life, and Bryce's voice suddenly echoed in Chuck's ear, "I think she likes you."

Chuck jumped, which made the bike sway slightly, and he could hear the smile in Bryce's voice as he explained, "Two-way radios."

"Huh," said Chuck. "So if I have to throw up I can tell you to pull over before it happens."

Bryce laughed. "Yeah, or just bang on my shoulder a couple of times if you want me to stop. For now, you should probably grab onto me."

"Uh," said Chuck intelligently. The engine revved and the bike heaved forward a bit, and Chuck threw his arms around Bryce's waist, hands clutching at his black leather jacket.

"Yeah, like that," said Bryce, and gunned it out of the super-special motorcycle parking space. "Don't let go, and follow my lead when we take the corners. And relax! If you tense up it makes the bike harder to control."

"That is so comforting," Chuck said. He spent the whole ride holding on for dear life, but they didn't crash, so he counted that as a win.

And the bike was pretty cool, he had to admit. To himself, at least, if never to Bryce.

Bryce didn't need any more encouragement.


End file.
